Switch Me
by KaosKitty99
Summary: Things have gone on for normal for quite a while, and that usually foretells that trouble is coming soon. Though when Arthur starts noticing things going strangely amiss, will he get to the bottom of it? More importantly, does he want to?
1. The Meeting

It was a normal day, much like any other. Early in the spring, flowers had just started blooming around Europe and North America, the chilly winter slowly starting to fade away in its everlasting cycle. For the countries of these areas, that being the personified countries, they were finally able to start shedding their heavier jackets and lowering the heating in their homes. A meeting had also been scheduled, to discuss current issues and the plans for the coming year.

Arthur was hosting this called meeting, and the others flocked to his country to take part in it. At noon, Arthur had shifted the tables to the normal U-shaped figure, placing a pedestal at the front for the speaker to stand at. He made sure the room was well-lit, also, by opening the blinds. Papers and notes of the topics to be discussed were laid out at each member's seat, along with nameplates, as the Englishman was very well-known for favouring order when it came to the placement of the attendees.

By the time that the others had started to file in slowly, coming back from their lunches, Arthur was already sat at his seat. His back was straightened comfortably against the chair, his hands clasped together and resting on top of the table. As per usual, the male was wearing his forest green military outfit, which blended well with the similar hue of his eyes.

The others came in groups of twos, or occasionally by themselves, slowly taking their seats once finding their nametags.

The first to arrive were Francis and Antonio, as their countries were the closest to England, taking their seats and chatting cheerfully. After that came Feliciano and his brother, conversing as well, and taking their seats without issue. Close behind them was Ludwig and his own brother, who were silent up until Gilbert had spotted Francis and Antonio and had hurried over to shout a greeting, despite his seat not being near them. Others slowly came in and sat, the last being Matthew slowly trudging into the room.

The meeting was soon called to order and attendance was taken, though something troubling was noticed. There was one empty seat, that seat belonging to none other than Alfred. The others looked around and noted the abnormal silence that followed, frowns slowly appearing. Countries usually gave prior notice if they were going to be absent, but no such note was given from the one that was to sit in the empty chair. Arthur looked over the notices he had in his hands, finding none addressed from Alfred. Troubling himself over the thought, he had started asking around if anyone had heard anything that would be attributing to his absence.

Though, almost as if on cue, the doors slammed open and the missing country hurried in. He was rather ruffled and scruffy, as if he'd been in some sort of brash hurry, jogging to his seat and plopping into his seat, adjusting his tie and straightening it. "I know, I know, I'm late! Save your nagging!" He chirped with an awkward sort of laugh. Arthur gave a light glare, narrowing his eyes, arms folding tightly across his chest.

The American straightened his tie once more with an almost nervous kind of glance at Arthur, clearing his throat. "Stop looking angry. It's creepin' me out, I already know I'm late!"

"And why are you late?" The Briton interrogated, poking at a white cloth bandage that stood out on the other's flushed cheek. At the touch to it, the other winced and jerked his head away slightly.

"Owww, you don't just poke people's injuries, bro! If you have to know, I, uh, was skateboarding with some buddies of mine." Alfred excused, his eyes averting to the side before shifting back over to Arthur, "I was skateboarding and fell. That's all."

Now, Arthur was rather certain that he wasn't the only one that suspected something else had happened, though he simply accepted the excuse as the other trying to cover up something that had embarrassingly happened. It would be expected.

The Englishman straightened out his papers on the table in front of him before clearing his own throat before walking over to stand in front of the pedestal. He leaned forwards slightly against it, hands depositing the leaflets on the flat surface. "Well, if there are no further interruptions, and we are all accounted for, I declare this meeting started." He announced.

One by one, topics were brought up and discussed, regarding relations, trade, treaties, and the likes. Each nation got a chance to speak on each topic, as per protocol, giving their suggestions and opinions.

The end of the meeting deemed a positive result, as a couple concerns had been laid to rest, and people slowly filtered out. When only a few were left, Alfred moved to rather hurriedly leave, only paused by Arthur grabbing hold lightly of his arm. "Alfred, I'd like you to accompany me on an errand. It's something I need to run before supper, but I'd also like to speak to you on a private note on the way, if you will." Arthur watched as Alfred glanced down the exit hall before looking back to Arthur, expression contorting faintly in a sort of conflict, before he gave a brief nod—only a couple dips of his head. Usually he'd agree wholeheartedly, Arthur noted, though this time he seemed reluctant, hesitant.

"Unless you have some other obligation?" He pondered aloud to the other, frowning slightly. He really had hoped to solve an issue he'd been encountering regarding tariffs.

To this, Alfred again paused before shaking his head rapidly. "Nope! Nothing, I can go! Nothin' to do, not at all!" He responded quickly, as his hands once more tightened his already perfectly straight tie. It was almost seeming like a nervous habit.

Something was slightly off about the American, but Arthur decided to push it to the back of his mind. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

No, he thought. Alfred must've just left the oven on or something silly like that.


	2. The Suspicion

Arthur and Alfred had eventually gathered together in the car and made a short drive off to the nearby post office, only about a mile's drive away from the meeting place. Arthur was at the wheel, seeing as Alfred would often forget to drive on the other side of the road in England. Alfred sat in the passenger seat, and remained unusually quiet. Arthur found this strange and often glanced over just to make sure the other hadn't fallen asleep or something of the likes.

But no, the American was still quite awake and staring out of the window, his elbow resting on the side of the door and his cheek resting on his open palm. He fidgeted often, distracting Arthur's gaze several times in their drive. Something was definitely off about the other. Slowly, almost cautiously, Arthur reached over and turned the volume up to the radio a bit, just to fill the silence that was usually broken by the other's nonstop talking. Only now did Arthur realize how little he appreciated the lack of silence with Alfred around. It felt uncomfortable, strange, to have him this lost for words.

Once they reached their destination, Arthur parked the car and turned it to the auxiliary slot to leave the radio on before unbuckling and starting to climb out of the car. When Alfred moved to follow, Arthur leaned back into the car. "You can stay in here, Alfred, I'll only be a couple minutes." He said, Alfred shaking his head and hopping out of the car anyways, though lacking a comment. Arthur merely shrugged and reached back in to shut off the car completely and lock the doors before shutting the car door. "Alright then." He mused to himself before turning and leading Alfred up to the post office and vanishing inside, assuming that the blonde would follow.

Arthur walked up to the clerk at the counter and requested the key to his lockbox, starting up a cheery conversation for a couple of minutes with the woman standing behind the table. After she turned to tend to another customer that had come in, Arthur walked over and quietly unlocked the box to get his mail. Alfred entered only moments after Arthur had unlocked it, standing at his side and peeking over his shoulder at the withdrawal of his mail. Arthur rifled though the letters and bills for a moment before tugging a couple of envolopes from his pocket. Stepping across the lobby, he then deposited the paid bills into a mail collection bin. Though a glint from the parking lot caught his eye.

As he looked up, his eyes widened and he quickly turned to leave the room with a sound of alarm; his car was pulling out of the parking spot quickly. As he reached where his car was previously, it sped from the lot and into the street, skidding a bit as it hurried to cut someone off. Alfred was quick to follow the panicked Brit. "My car! Dammit!" He had shouted.

When Arthur turned to Alfred again, the other was looking the way the car had gone, grimacing with a guilty expression of sorts. Even more anger bubbled up in Arthur's chest, causing his cheeks to heat, likely to a flushed extent.

"Alfred, what's that face for?!" He barked, the other jumping a bit and quickly turning his head to give Arthur a surprised look.

"Face? What face? I'm not making a face, this is my face." He responded quickly.

"Who stole my car?!" Arthur then snapped, already pulling his phone from his pocket and starting to dial emergency services. Maybe the police could do something. "Fuck, I'm calling the police." He growled to himself.

Though, only moments before he was able to click the little green button to call, his phone was snatched from his hand, Alfred backing away with it and turning it off. "Don't!" He all but squeaked.

Astounded, Arthur was only able to stare for a moment before narrowing his eyes in an icy glare, holding his hand out. "Alfred, give me my phone." He demanded slowly. He didn't know what was going on with Alfred, but it was definitely something big to have the American acting like this.

Alfred glanced side to side for a moment before whining childishly and slowly handing the phone back. Though as soon as he did, he started backing away again. "Hope you find your car, Artie, but I gotta go back to the hotel! I, uh... I gotta go." He stammered quickly, before turning and running.

Again, Arthur stared in shock, before gritting his teeth and shaking his head, redialing the number to the police. He needed his car back, and then he'd get to the bottom of what was bothering Alfred.

Later that day, after Arthur had the police put out a search for his car and he'd gotten someone to pick him up, he had them drive him to the hotel where Alfred was staying for the duration of the meetings, as another was scheduled for tomorrow to finish up the topics from the previous day.

Arthur thanked his driver and stepped out of the car, grabbing his bag before heading up to the building. He walked inside and headed up to the fourth floor with the elevator, where the nice hotel suites were. The countries always reserved suites, as they had a special discount agreement with the owners, being international diplomats. Usually, they would get the same room number as well, so Arthur headed down the hall to Alfred's usual room.

Stopping in front of the door, his hand hesitated for only the briefest moment. Would this be an invasion of privacy of some sort? Was there something seriously wrong that he shouldn't get involved in? The Englishman snorted lightly to himself and shook his head to clear his head of the impossible ideas. He was starting to over think it. He raised his hand up and knocked firmly on the door, three times, before waiting.

Moments passed silently and Arthur knocked again, his brow furrowing together. There was shuffling inside this time, and a murmured voice, it only taking a few seconds more before a rather ruffled Alfred had answered the door, looking immensely tired and struggling to pull his trademark lopsided grin to his face.

"Artie, whaddya doing here?" He asked lightly, though his tone gave away that the visit was somewhat unwanted. Arthur hadn't missed it, however subtle it was.

"I needed to talk to you about what happened earlier today." The Briton answered with a frown, folding his arms across his chest, one of his hands shifting their hold on his bag to make it possible.

Alfred looked suddenly reluctant, his grin fading away quickly. "Er, it's not the best time, Artie. Uhm, go get supper or something, go home, sleep..." He suggested, backing away a bit and moving to close the door.

Arthur ground his teeth lightly and stepped forwards, wedging his foot in the remaining space between the door and the door frame, preventing Alfred from closing it. He tried to peek around his arm, to try to see what exactly he was hiding, if it were visible.

As much as he could see, the room was relatively normal. Though a couple things lay broken on the ground, and the Englishman swore he saw a brief glance of someone heading through the doorway to the bathroom.

His brief gazing chance was cut short when he was gently but hurriedly pushed back, Alfred managing out a brief apology before slamming the door. The clinking of the chain lock followed.

Arthur blinked once before huffing to himself and knocking loudly on the door. "Alfred, you answer me right now!" He demanded, but his order went unheard and unheeded.

A brief chill trickled down the elder's spine as he could only imagine what it was that Alfred had gotten mixed up in.

Arthur could only hope it wasn't something that was long-term.


	3. The Mirror

For the rest of that day and the beginning of the next, Arthur wallowed in his silent worry. Alfred was acting too strangely, like a guilty child, and it honestly made him concerned about his safety. After all, his naïveté was easy to take advantage of. The Englishman ate and slept little that night, and was quite tired by the next day, despite needing to go to the meeting, which was early in the morning.

He proceeded with his usual routine of getting out of bed and making up the sheets, getting dressed in his more formal attire and grabbing something quick to eat before having to leave. With the building not far, he gave himself enough time to simply walk there, making it over in fifteen minutes and heading to the top floor to start setting up, which took about the same amount of time.

As with the previous day, the others slowly filtered in after a while, though in a quicker succession, since this time they were arriving from their hotels. They came in groups more often than not.

Arthur remained in his seat, one elbow resting on top of the table, his chin in his palm. He noticed that some of the others had taken note of his tired state and murmured to each other about it, causing Arthur to snort lightly to himself and turn his head to look out the window. Did they have anything better to do than gossip?

Again, who else was missing but the American from the previous day? Figuring he'd simply be late again, Arthur continued with calling the meeting to order. He grew more and more concerned as the meeting trudged on, and yet, Alfred never showed. The others seemed only mildly disturbed, appearing to take a liking the unnatural silence without the American. Even so, the Briton's concern continued to grow, and at the end of the meeting, he was the first out the door.

Without bothering to ask for a ride—as the knowledge that a vehicle form of transportation would be quicker had escaped his mind—he immediately headed for the hotel where Alfred was staying. He hoped that he was simply sick in bed or something of the likes.

It had been a while before Arthur reached the hotel, shuffling himself tiredly into the elevator and heading for the fourth floor. Soft panting from exertion escaped the Englishman, and his face was lightly flushed. Keeping one hand holding his briefcase, which he hadn't bothered to leave or drop off, the other raised to loosen up his tie to a more casual and comfortable degree. The elevator ride felt like a nervous eternity, Arthur shifting from foot to foot and gaining stares from the other elevator inhabitants. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, he stepped out and quickly headed down the hall at a brisk pace, his breathing refusing to calm for the moment.

He approached Alfred's door and moved to knock on it, though at the first rap of his knuckles against the wood, it slowly creaked open on its own. This struck Arthur as odd, seeing as how the door wasn't even closed properly. He hesitated in the hall for a few brief moments before stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

The scene inside was worrying, to say the least. Several things were now broken, a table chair fallen onto its back, dinner left uneaten on the table, the tv left on. Arthur pressed his back against the door as he examined the area before hurrying to look for the American, his heart pounding loudly as if trying to escape its bone cage.

"Alfred?" he called, but he was left unanswered, the rented suite empty of any other beings. The last room Arthur checked was the bathroom. An unlikely candidate, but worth making sure he wasn't passed out in a bath or on the floor.

Arthur stepped into the bathroom, only to be left scratching his head. It was clean, pristine, and yet no Alfred.

With a sigh, the Briton turned to leave, only to notice something rather odd—He had no reflection in the large mirror that was attached to the bathroom door. Arthur frowned in confusion and glanced into the vanity mirror; he had a reflection there. Turning emerald eyes back to the larger of the mirrors, he stepped closer. It reflected the room, but not him, as if he were not there at all. The male glanced around his surroundings with brows furrowed in a puzzled way. Slowly, he reached towards the mirror, touching the surface with his fingertips. To his surprise, they slipped through, the rest of the mirror rippling as if it were made of liquid. With a squeak of surprise slipping from his mouth, Arthur stepped back quickly, tucking his hand to his chest, nearly toppling over a clothes hamper in his movement. Blinking once and waiting until the ripples had vanished and calmed, he cautiously repeated the strange action, watching as his hand slid through the usually very solid surface. It was a strange sensation, almost as if he were dipping his hand through a layer of thick gel. He was able to see his hand on the other side, clear as day, and completely unharmed. Once more he tugged his hand out, chewing on his lip in consideration.

If he went through, could he get back? He was experienced in magic, but never heard of a mirror being cursed like this. What was it like on the other side? It simply looked like Alfred's bathroom. Arthur leaned close to the mirror and inspected it, but once calmed the surface merely looked like glass again.

It took a minute or two of consideration, but he reluctantly decided to pass through, just to see if this was where Alfred had vanished to. Leaving his briefcase on the counter nearby, he paused in front of the surface and sighed softly. "Okay… Just step through… No issue…" He mumbled to himself before warily lifting a leg and stepping through, closing his eyes and shuddering at the uncomfortable feeling that followed. Though as he ducked through and moved to bring his other leg along, he caught the bottom of the door and managed to topple over onto the ground with a surprised yelp and a dull thud.

He hopped back up onto his feet hurriedly and dusted himself off before looking around with a hum. It looked exactly like the bathroom in Alfred's suite. What had changed? He strolled into the other room to investigate further, only to find that the room wasn't trashed like the other one. The tv was on a baseball channel, though, instead of football, and it didn't pass by the Briton that the meal on the table was a bowl of raw vegetables. By the door, a bat was leaned against the wall, nails jammed into the end of it. That was stranger than anything. Where had the mirror taken him?

Arthur scanned the room once more, moving to rub the back of his neck, grumbling in confusion, though when he did it was to his surprise that he suddenly felt someone grip his wrist and bend his arm further back to a painful degree, the unseen male's tanned arm hooking around his neck and constricting it enough to make the Briton give a choked sound of alarm. His heart was beating quickly and was pulsating in his ears, so loud that he was left wondering if his assailant could hear it.

Arthur tried to turn to see his attacker, only to be met by a gruff tone. "What the hell are you doin' in my room?" They barked.

The Englishman didn't need to answer, his eyes wide. He knew that whatever he said, he was in trouble.


	4. The Capture

Arthur's struggles were left unheeded, the grip on his arm only constricting to a rather painful point, numbness starting to creep through his hand. He was near frantic, caught off guard, looking around for a weapon or an escape, but nothing was in reach.

Perhaps he could bargain with this person; he hadn't known he was invading another's room after all. "L-look, I didn't know this was your room, just… Just let me go…!" He replied, voice almost a squeak. His reply only got him a harsh shake.

"I didn't ask if y'knew this was my room, I asked why you were here." The male growled again, though Arthur was released with a shove. "Get out."

The moment he could, Arthur whirled around to face his attacker and back away, though the caught only caused his eyes to widen. It was Alfred, he swore! Well, almost. It looked like the American he knew, but his appearance was slightly different.

The other male watched Arthur look him over, folding his lean arms tightly across his chest. He was tanner than Alfred, evenly so, and his eyes were blood crimson instead of the familiar crystal cerulean. His hair was darker, too, a dark burgundy rather than honey blond, though it was cut and styled in the exact same way as Alfred's. Arthur didn't know what to make of this, so he simply stumbled for words for a while.

"What are you gawkin' for?" The other grumbled, seeming to have calmed down a smidgen, but he was still tense and defensive.

"Y-you just, ah… Remind me of… Someone." Arthur finished lamely, voice cracking once. Perhaps he hit his head and was only dreaming, unconscious. He pinched his arm in a meek attempt to check, but it did nothing.

"I get that a lot. A guy named _Alfred_, right?" He had replied, the name coming out with a venomous tone, the male licking his lips briefly, a glimpse of a tongue piercing shown, before curling the upper lip in a sneer. As if seeing Arthur's surprise in his expression, he continued. "Yeah, I know the guy. Real cocky. I know you too, _Arthur_. Figures you don't know me." Again the condescending tone was used.

"Er… I don't think I've… Met you before…?" Arthur murmured, eyes wide, as he took another step back. Was this male dangerous? A stalker, perhaps? Was he a normal human or a country, like himself?

"Oh, no, _we_ haven't." The stranger replied. "Take a seat." He then barked, turning away and turning the television off, which had been still displaying a baseball game, and had momentarily switched to a commercial.

Trying to decide if it was the best course of action, Arthur seated himself, crossing his legs and tugging a bit at the collar of his shirt. The other sat down in an armchair, in a sort of disorganized, lazy position like Alfred would. His arms rested on the back of the chair behind him, and he too crossed his legs.

"Name's Allan." He began, gruffly. "Allan Jones."

Arthur chewed lightly on his lower lip before replying. "Jones… Are you… Related to Alfred?" He questioned. As far as he knew, other than his half-brother Matthew, Alfred didn't have any other siblings.

"Sort of, sort of not. I'm his counterpart." He replied, giving a faint shrug. A crooked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth when he noticed Arthur's confusion. "Counterpart. Second player. Look, ace, you're in a parallel universe right now." He explained, motioning to the room around him.

"P-parallel… Universe? As in… Some sort of fairytale land or…?" Arthur whispered, hardly daring to bring his voice above that. He had to be dreaming now, he was sure of it. He, although quite adept in the practices of magic, had never really believed in parallel universes. He had never found anything on them in his books and thought it best not to bother anyhow.

"Hell no, get yo' head out of the clouds. You're on Earth, still. England, specifically. While you first players were trottin' around havin' meetings and such, we were too." He then smirked deviously, crimson eyes glinting with something that sent a chill down Arthur's spine. "Too bad our good boy Alfie missed the meetin' today." He practically purred out.

At that, Arthur shakily stood again, hands balling up at his sides, his emerald eyes wide, brow furrowed. "Where's Alfred?!" He shouted, Allan not seeming the least bit surprised or bothered.

"Oh, he's just on a little trip with my good friend Luciano. Ah, the counterpart of your Feliciano." He replied calmly, breaking into a toothy grin. It was noted that he was missing one tooth, but Arthur would ask later. The Englishman could only imagine what sort of person Feliciano's second player was.

"Take me to him." Arthur demanded, taking a step towards Allan.

"No can do, I gotta wait for Oliver first. You'll get to meet your very own counterpart." He chirped, laughing afterwards.

Arthur grit his teeth before leaning forwards and gripping the front of Allan's shirt, pulling him up a bit. "Look, you beastly bastard. You tell me where Alfred is so both me and him can go back to our own bloody world." He growled lowly, Allan only chuckling and blowing a puff of air into Arthur's face to further anger him.

Though, from the other side of the door of the room, there were some skipping footsteps and merry humming, Allan speaking before Arthur could. "Hm, I wonder who it could be." He cooed with obvious sarcasm, shoving the Briton's hands off his shirt and glancing over his shoulder at the door. "It's unlocked!" He called, to who was on the other side.

Another male pushed open the door, a strawberry blonde male with a bright grin and happy baby blue eyes. Arthur was shocked by the likeness he saw between himself and this male. He could assume it was Oliver, by what Allan said, and by what seemed to be going on.

"You called, Allan?" He chimed, stopping a few feet from the door and clasping his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Yeah. Ollie, take Arthur to our little meeting room." Allan simply replied, getting to his feet. Before Arthur could react, he was shoved towards Oliver, who grabbed his wrist and started dragging him off, laughing softly. Arthur was almost sure he'd rather be stuck with his own counterpart than Alfred's.

He still wondered where the peppy man was taking him, though his guesses were blind. Soon literally so, as without warning Oliver yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and shoved the Englishman against the nearby wall, proceeding to forcibly tie it over Arthur's eyes.

"Don't you dare take that off, dearie, or the sight to see won't be a pleasant one." He warned, tone light and airy, though hinting at latent malice. Either way, Arthur listened, growling lowly as he was led along, hoping this trip would lead to Alfred.

It wasn't too much longer before he could feel the air grow cooler, and their footsteps echoed on a hard ground. It was clear they had arrived in some sort of basement, as Oliver was leading him down a flight of solid stairs. Once they were on flat ground again, he was harshly pushed into a chair. He grunted in surprise, eyes wide behind the handkerchief, stumbling to get back to his feet only for his hands to be roughly yanked back and tied together with something course and scratchy, likely cheap rope.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" He now cried, pulling against the binds. He was about to slide from his chair before another rope was tightly wrapped around his waist, pressing him back against it.

Almost in the same instant, a flick of some sort landed on his nose, causing him to squeak in the sharp pain and shock of the action. "No cursing, now!" The same male chirped. "It's terribly impolite, you know."

"I would have you know that _tying people to a chair_ isn't very polite either!" Arthur snapped, teeth bared. He wriggled and struggled against his binds, only for more to be put on his ankles, pressing them to the front feet of the chair. "Bloody—Get off me! Let me go!" He shouted.

There was a feeling like a light tap to his forehead, a giggle coming from somewhere in front of him. "You stay put and be a good boy, now. We'll be back soon!" He giggled once more, before the sound of resonating footsteps came again, slowly fading up the stairs.

Arthur continued to writhe in his bound state, cursing and grumbling lowly to himself. But only a single sound made him stop.

"Arthur… Stop struggling, he's damn good at knots. You'll only get rope burn…" A small but familiar voice mumbled, the owner unseen but known rather well to the Briton.

"Alfred? _What is going on._" Was all he could think to reply with.


End file.
